Reaching the northern most point in South America

Although I’ve enjoyed living in Santa Marta, with this grimy little city growing on me over time, I’ve loved escaping to the beautiful surrounding areas on a regular basis. I’ve only spent one weekend in Santa Marta the entire time, making the most of time off from ‘work’ to travel. Going to Cabo de Vela and Punta de Gallinas has been on the list of ‘things to do’ since I arrived and with another public holiday, Colombian Independence day, Lisa and I decided to take an extra day off and head north. The night before we left, Diego, Samara and I celebrated what would be our penultimate night together with a few beers at home. I couldn’t have found two nicer people to live with and my experience in Santa Marta would not have been half as good as it has been had I been living elsewhere. Diego has tried to teach me every rude Colombian slang word under the sun- verdad Marika?!

Calle 30 y Carerra 4, con Diego y Samara

Friday morning Lisa and I met to start the long journey up to Cabo de Vela. Luckily we had detailed instructions on how to get there because this wasn’t a straight forward hop on a bus and off you go kind of a trip. A taxi, a van and a collectivo got us to Uribia where we boarded a pick up truck with a bunch of other people and a heap of cargo.

Truck from Uribia to Cabo de Vela

The driver seemed to know everybody in town and was happy to stop regularly for a chat but eventually we made our way up through the desert plains of northern Colombia towards our first destination, Cabo de Vela. On the way we stopped several times to drop off supplies to indigenous Wayuu families, with our transport doubling as a supplies vehicle. Cabo de Vela is situated on the La Guajira peninsula, where the desert meets the ocean. It is scarcely populated with some local indigenous families and basic accommodation for tourists found along side a beautiful and deserted coastline. It’s known to be windy year round and so attracts a lot of wind and kite surfers.

Cabo de Vela at Sunset

After finding somewhere to stay Lisa and I set off for a walk to Pan de Azucar, a small triangular hill situated on an adjacent beach around the point. We decided to take the unconventional but more direct route via the ‘salt lakes’ and through the cactus in order to save time. It ended up being at Lisa’s expense with a misplaced step resulting in a cactus thorn through her foot, ouch. After a few photos trying to replicate the trick photography of the Bolivian salt flats we reached a nice beach and the hill where we climbed up the top for a view along the coast and back across Cabo de Vela. On the walk back to Cabo we were picked up in a truck by a young Colombian guy from Cali who was there with on holidays with a female friend and her child. He was mad as a cut snake but good fun. We ended up having beers with them and then going around to their place for canned tuna dinner.

Not quite white or flat enough but not bad for a dirty salt lake

Shantaram and its 950 pages, heaviest travel book ever

View from Pan de Azucar, Cabo de Vela

The next day we had arranged to go to Punta de Gallinas which required a ride in the back of a truck to Puerto Bolivar and then a boat the rest of the way. On the ‘tour’ were two great Colombian guys, Mauricio and Andres, who we would end up spending the rest of the trip with. Two and a bit hours on a small boat across some reasonably rough seas and we reached Punta de Gallinas (roughly translated as the peninsula of chickens), the northern most point on the mainland in South America. The place we were staying resembled a small army base with the surrounding landscape desert and seemingly over run by goats and cacti.

Accommodation in Punta de Gallinas

That afternoon we were supposed to be going on a tour of the area. Upon arrival we noticed that the only vehicle available was an old converted pick up truck that didn’t look like it was functioning particularly well (it was missing a tyre and had no front windscreen). A few bush repairs and the five of us who had just arrived, plus a French family of four, hopped on the back and off we went. The first stop was the lighthouse, marking the northern most point on the peninsula. After stopping there and taking a few photos, it became apparent that the driver didn’t want to take us onward to the sand dunes, apparently concerned about the car. The group was a bit perturbed but after some negotiation and a kind offer from the French to walk for two hours, the driver continued with the rest of us.

The car, on its last legs

Punta de Gallinas with Andres, Lisa and Mauricio

From Ushuaia to Punta de Gallinas and plenty of places in between..

We continued on in the dodgy truck to a look out point and then to some sand dunes. At the time we didn’t realise but we had actually been taken to the fake dunes, closer and not as impressive as the dunes by the ocean you are meant to visit. On the way we had to get out several times so the car could make it up slight inclines or because the car stalled. We hopped out an played around a bit in the sand dunes with the sun starting to set over the sea behind us. On the drive back we were looking out for the French family, thinking we would see them and pick them up, but we didn’t. The driver took us past our place and we drove in the dusk to the other side of the point, playa blanca. When we returned to the barracks and the French family weren’t there there was a collective ‘oh oh’ from us. The guide went back out to find them and they came back soon after more than a little pissed off having been wandering around for almost four hours.

Lisa doing a headstand in the dunes

This one worked pretty well

The next day Lisa convinced Mauricio and Andres to stay another day and the four of us went off on a walking tour of the area. We headed back to playa blanca on foot but found it far too windy and a bit dirty because of the dust so ended up swimming elsewhere. We navigated our way past rocks, cactus and goats for two hours but just before reaching the beach I managed to brush against a cactus with the spines sticking into my hand. We returned to the base camp just after lunch and four new people had arrived. They had come in a car because that morning the returning boat to Cabo had broken down and the French and family had floated at sea for three hours. Poor old French weren’t having much luck. We felt like we hadn’t had the best tour the day before having realised we’d missed the real dunes so squeezed in the car for a second tour. Being in a functioning vehicle made it so much easier and we hung out in the dunes watching the sun set for two hours. On the way to the dunes we found this guy confused about what to do with his car.

How did that end up there?

 

Mauricio’s brilliant photography

Racking up a few more frequent flyer points

The following day we were up early for the return trip back to Santa Marta. We had four hours in the car coming back to Riohacha because there was no boat to return on. The most interesting part of the journey were the road blocks set up by the indigenous Wayuu people. They place ropes across the road and sit there waiting for vehicles to come with the drivers giving them panella (sugar cane) and other gifts in order to pass. We stopped off in Riohacha on the way home so that Lisa and I could buy bags and we could have a farewell beer with Mauricio and Andres. I’m hoping to catch them again for a music festival in Cali in a few weeks.

Wayuu woman and baby, courtesy of Mauricio

In Riohacha, with Lisa, Andres and Mauricio

My last week volunteering in Santa Marta passed by without too much of a fuss. I had two English classes, three sports classes, four Spanish classes and twenty three empanadas. Fortunately I only discovered the empanada place across the road a few weeks ago otherwise I would have rapidly accelerated my current trend towards fat-face ville. 

Empanada face

Last was a week of farewells. Emma and I had a last dinner with Diego and Samara before Diego left for Bogota to live. We also had a good mid-week empanada dinner session with Mauricio and Melanie, with Mauricio returning from Parque Tayrona prior to returning to Cali and Melanie returning from Costeno beach before going to Cartagena. Prior to that a group of us had been down at Rodadero, the nicest beach in Santa Marta, for a swim and beers at dusk.

Rodadero at sunset

Thursday was the last night for Santiago, Claudia’s son, and Luke, Charlotte’s boyfriend, who had come to visit for three weeks. We went round to Claudia’s apartment for farewell drinks and then Lisa, Paulie and I went to La Brisa Loca for our final quiz night. Friday was Santa Marta’s birthday celebrations which involved a few concerts around the historic centre and by the port, as well as fireworks and other random explosions. I went to the language exchange and then to watch a Colombian indy band with my friends in the plaza. Surprisingly I don’t think we farewelled anyone that night. Saturday we went out to Minca during the day and then had a teenage mutant ninja turtle party for Lisa’s birthday and Paulie and my farewell. It was a nice mix of locals and foreigners, mainly volunteers, with regaton clearly being the music of choice for the dancefloor.

TMNT

On the D-floor

A hungover trip to McDonalds with Emma on Sunday followed by the new Batman (dubbed in Spanish) rounded out my last full day in Santa Marta. That night Roh rolled into town from Cartagena for our re-union hike out to Ciudad Perdida and I officially handed over the sports bag and responsibility for the sports days. And with that I was ready for the trek and then to leave Santa Marta and recommence ‘travelling’ the following weekend. I just noticed today is the 5th, which means it is exactly 9 months since I left Sydney.